


Fall With You

by Cupcakemolotov



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Dates That Aren't Dates, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, Fluff and Humor, Human Caroline Forbes, Human Klaus Mikaelson, Living Room Picnics, Making Out, Mild Smut, Minor Character Death, NSFW just to be safe, Some petting, They Could Really Get Their Shit Together Faster, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wine, but not really, not otp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:01:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29269932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cupcakemolotov/pseuds/Cupcakemolotov
Summary: When life throws her a curve ball in the form of her good looking, yet moody roommate, Caroline takes it in stride as best she can. Her living situation was a favor, after all, and rent is anything but cheap in NYC. Its the part where she actually starts to like him that she can't quiet figure out how to manage. Lust was one thing, but feelings?
Relationships: Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson
Comments: 32
Kudos: 157
Collections: Klaroline Winter Gift Exchange 2021





	Fall With You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theoriginalcheeesecake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoriginalcheeesecake/gifts).



> This just ended up being a giant roommate fluff fest as they get their shit together, but I hope you enjoy it. Apologies that the smut didn't end up being a lot more smutty but I ran out of time. And a big thank you needs to go to bellemorte for making the absolutely wonderful graphic that goes with this!

It was almost three am, her feet were killing her, and her key was stuck in her front door.

Seriously, what _was_ with her luck today? The door had always been finicky, but until earlier this week the lock had been behaving itself. It’d gone from not wanting to turn properly to straight up mutiny in four days. It was an easy fix, unlike the door, but it also required a trip to the store and she just hadn’t had time. Amazon could have delivered the powdered graphite, but she was on a budget and believed in shopping local.

Her two year savings plan to finish her degree would not manifest itself if she bought things simply because they were convenient.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Caroline seriously considered just leaning up against the door jam and spending the night outside. It was early summer, and the air had cooled to a balmy sixty-five degrees, leaving the usually stifling hallway almost comfortable. If only she didn’t smell so heavily of beer. Shifting her weight, she winced as her shoes squelched, a reminder of the truly spectacular ending to her night. Her eight hour shift had almost doubled when the night shift manager had called in sick. Usually that wouldn’t have been a problem, but the only other person with keys was out of town leaving Caroline holding the bag to close.

She knew from experience that she had about an hour before she crashed, the rush from kicking out the lingering guests who had been clearly on an epic brawl crawl having mostly faded after the hour long subway ride home. Right then, the only thing keeping her upright was the fact that she was _starving_ , her dinner had been rushed and only half eaten, and the knowledge that if she made it into her apartment she had the next two days off. Tomorrow she could sleep in, and if she was really lucky, her roommate’s night had gone well enough he could be coaxed into making pancakes.

Cheered by the thought, Caroline dug out her cell phone from the backpack she’d slung over her shoulder and checked it for a response. She hadn’t been sure if Klaus had beaten her home or if he was still out celebrating, but either way, he hadn’t bothered to respond yet. Her lips compressed into a thin line.

Usually, she could depend on Klaus to be awake when she finished a night shift, her roommates' hours were only reliable on how sporadic they were and depending on her schedule, hers weren’t much better. But with his big event tonight, she had no idea what he had decided to do. Honestly, would it kill the man to respond to her texts?

She’d _expected_ him to ignore her rapidly typed apology and well wishes she’d sent in-between bites of food. Klaus wasn’t particularly good at handling sentiment of any kind and supremely anti-emoji, and she’d made a point to send several of them. She’d hoped it’d give him something to be annoyed about that wasn’t his evening plans. He needed to schmooze, and a scowl-y Klaus would not accomplish that at all.

He could be charming, when he wanted to be. She’d seen it. He just didn’t deploy full dimples unless he wanted something. Her reminders the night before that he needed to earn his half of the rent without getting carpal tunnel hadn't impressed him.

Too bad. She’d been right, and he’d known it.

He _had_ mentioned a couple of his friends were trying to talk him into drinks afterwards, back when she had thought she might be able to join him. Usually, she would be thrilled that he was getting out and actually seeing people instead of trying to live off granola bars and tea. But right then she really wanted him to be home and grumpy so he could unlock the door. She wondered if texting Marcel with an S.O.S would be rude?

Things were a lot less complicated when she only liked Klaus for the rent he helped cover. Wanting him home, even just for a lock-related emergency wasn’t a thought she would have had even six months ago. Klaus was not what one would label as a _comfortable_ roommate for most of the time. He was far too prickly for that, and he could be snarly in the mornings. Which fair, so could she, but the _moodiness_. Caroline hadn’t been one to spend much time around the art scene, either at Uni or in high school, but she’d spent the last year learning that there was a _lot_ to be said about artistic temperaments, most of it unflattering.

She was fairly certain Klaus had been born a contrary grump, his winning personality had nothing to do with his chosen profession, she could certainly see how he’d been drawn to the lifestyle, talent aside. Most people immediately laughed off his acerbic tongue once they learned he was an artist, his behavior brushed aside as _temperamental_. His goods certainly helped his cause, and his accent added a layer of charm that otherwise might not have existed.

 _She_ was not so forgiving.

The first few months of their co-hab had not been easy. Klaus was messy, absent minded, and had ruined three of her towels with paint splatter before she’d blown her lid. The apartment was small enough that avoiding each other was nearly impossible, and her preferred kind of stress relief had to be timed for when she was alone, and so they’d been forced to deal with their annoyances. To Klaus’ credit, while he’d been snappish in return, he’d somehow managed to keep a lid on the worst of his temper.

They’d argued, multiple times, they were both stubborn and used to being right, but they’d eventually found some kind of middle ground. Snapping had softened into bickering, and Caroline had stopped nitpicking him about his notebooks being spread across the house and the incorrect way he rolled his toothpaste, and he stopped leaving towels on the floor and made a point to contain his absentminded mess to his room.

And then they started to talk, sometimes about work, sometimes about art, and she’d realized she kind of liked him as a person. She’d started dragging him to her group lunches on her days off, much to Rebekah’s despair, and they might have become something like friends. Except for the part where every so often, she’d look at him and something about the way he stood, the angle of his jaw or the line of his throat left her wanting to jump his bones.

It was really frustrating, when her existence didn’t even seem to phase him.

So she’d done her best to ignore whatever that little spark was between them when it flared up, and not upset the status quo. Because the past year had been better than she could have imagined. Before her mom had died, she would never have considered the life she found herself living now as a good one.

She’d just wrapped her third year at NYU, had exactly 24 hours of classes left before graduation, and had managed to wrangle her schedule so that her final semester would be a cake walk of classes. The cherry on top had been the kick ass internship she’d lined up for the summer. Her five year plan was perfectly on track, her excellent grades gave her a shot at graduating with honors, and she couldn’t wait to show her mom around New York City from the eyes of a local. She’d spent three years putting together a binder, collecting menus from her favorite places to eat and brochures from all the museums and the jam packed tourists locations to offer her mom some variety.

Then she’d gotten that phone call that had thrown everything into a tale spin.

Blowing out a breath, Caroline bounced on her toes and debated best her course of action. She could probably get her key out of the lock if she was very careful, though the past twenty minutes said her luck wasn’t great, Forbes women were nothing if not stubborn, but there was also a chance she would break the key off in the lock and she could already see the little smirk on Klaus’ face if she did. Her hand tightened on the strap of her backpack. He still hadn’t forgiven her for being far more comfortable with power tools than he was and her perfectly reasonable gloating probably hadn’t helped much, if she was honest.

She kind of didn’t regret it. Poking Klaus sizable ego was a favorite past time of hers, and he seemed to enjoy their back and forth as much as she did. Her mental tally had her up two points this month, and she wanted to keep her lead.

Unfortunately, things weren’t really going in her favor just then. Sighing, Caroline tucked her phone back into her bag and admitted defeat. She’d have to figure this one out herself. Either Klaus’ event had run long and he had actually taken her advice to schmooze people or he was home and had drunk enough that he was sleeping like the dead.

Either of those options would not help her now.

Her best bet now was to go and eat a giant piece of pie, drink her weight in caffeine, and trudge her way to the little mom and pop shop that sold a little of everything, including graphite, once it became a reasonable hour. She’d fix her lock and then crash for the following eight hours of hopefully uninterrupted sleep, and leave a very pointed sticky note on the coffee pot so Klaus knew not to disturb her.

Satisfied with the makings of her plan, she shifted her backpack to her other shoulder, mentally reviewing the pie menu, and paused when the elevator dinged from behind her. Sliding her teeth between her lip, Caroline turned and blew out a breath when she recognized the tumble of ruffled curls stepping into the hall. The hallway was dimly lit, so it took a moment for her brain to _really_ understand what else she was seeing.

Klaus was wearing a tux.

Logically, she’d known he was going to be wearing one. His event that night had been important, his work had finally made it into a gallery tonight and it was a Big Deal. His first real show outside of the fancy art school he had attended, and he had spent months fretting over his work and brooding silently in his room as nothing met his incredibly exacting standards. Klaus had even brought home a couple of canvas to work in the questionable light of his bedroom instead of the small studio space he and five other artists pooled their money to share.

Much to her annoyance.

No amount of febreeze really removed the scent of acrylics and turpentine, and she’d been worried if she tried to burn her stash of scented candles something would catch on fire. She’d held her tongue though, because Klaus was _never_ nervous. He was in fact annoyingly difficult to rattle even in the most ridiculous of situations, the man had absolutely no shame, and the way he’d almost jittered had been weird and kind of enduring. Since he’d seen her in numerous states of frantic and alarmed, it was nice for things to end up on a little more even ground for once. She’d done her best to force him to eat something that looked like actual food every so often, and tried to stay quiet when she knew he was working in his bedroom.

She’d even helped him pick out the tuxedo from the catalogue he’d brought home from the store he had planned to rent from. There was a fancy evening gown that she’d rented hanging in _her_ closet that Caroline had planned to wear to go with him before work had made that impossible. But knowing all that, and actually _seeing_ him in that tux were not nearly the same thing.

Caroline blinked rapidly. Her paint speckled roommate, with his surly attitude and annoying dimples, was wearing a tux. And he looked really, _really good_. He’d undone his tie so it hung loosely around his neck, and his jacket was loose and unbuttoned around his waist, his curls still somewhat tamed along his forehead. Something very much like arousal jolted through her as he looked up, the low light highlighting the scruff along his jaw and the length of his neck. For a moment, he just stared at her, as surprised as she and then his head tipped and his brow arched, lips tugging up at the corners.

“Waiting on me?”

Rolling her eyes, she scoffed, trying to hide the sudden flush she could feel in her face as her pulse throbbed in her throat. “Why would I do that out _here_?”

A hint of a dimple tucked into his cheek and he walked forward. For the first time, Caroline noticed that he was carrying a plastic bag full of containers, and also a familiar brown bag that might have been a bottle of wine. Or a replacement for his preferred bourbon. She really hoped it was wine. “The lock?”

She grimaced and shoved her bangs away from her face. “Seriously, the door is cursed. I couldn’t get it to budge and I didn’t want to break the key off.”

Klaus peered over her shoulder, and she caught a hint of what she knew was his expensive cologne. Shivering, she shifted her weight to hide that particular reaction and nudged him with her elbow, firming her voice. “You didn’t respond to my texts. I thought you were already home and passed out. Does this mean that it went well and you weren’t ignoring me?”

He glanced down at her, his expression suddenly smoothing into something unreadable. After a long moment, he nodded and motioned to her to take the bags. “It went fine.”

The look Caroline gave him was unimpressed and he ignored it, reaching for the keys still dangling from the lock once his hands were free. “Uh huh. And my texts? Particularly the one I sent like, half an hour ago saying I was locked out.”

“Apologies, love.” His expression turned briefly sheepish. “My phone died.”

Caroline pulled herself as tall as she could manage and glowered at him. “Do you listen to me when I talk? Did my reminder to go into low battery mode before the evening started just bounce in one ear and out the other?”

“I hear everything you say, Caroline,” he replied, exasperation bleeding into his voice. Lips pursing briefly, he jiggled the key to gauge just how stuck it was, head tipping as he carefully worked to coax the key to turn. “There were mitigating circumstances. I did get your good luck message.”

She huffed. “I should have sent more emojis.”

Klaus snorted, but didn’t look up and Caroline decided to let him work in peace. She really hoped that none of their neighbors walked by, there were a few who were prone to returning home loud and drunk on a Friday night after all, and she couldn’t imagine how ridiculous they looked. Caroline in her drab work clothes, covered in drying beer and ugly but comfortable shoes, and Klaus dressed to the nines.

Then again, it was NYC.

They probably wouldn’t blink.

“If you break the key, I am never letting you live this down,” Caroline murmured as she bounced impatiently. “My back up plan involves pie, caffeine and the purchase of graphite. I’m starving, but not enough to stay in these clothes long enough to eat said pie. Do we still have emergency pizza in the freezer?”

“I picked up the graphite this afternoon,” Klaus said absently, clearly unconcerned by her threat as he worked. “I just didn’t have time to use it before I had to leave.”

She bit her lip. He’d have had to have gone out to buy it that morning after she mentioned it while rushing around the house. The flush unexpected warmth left her feeling flat footed and she had to clear her throat. “Well, at least if we get _into_ the apartment we won’t have to deal with this again for a while I suppose.”

“Such faith,” he teased, glancing over at her. Something warm flickered across his face before it disappeared behind his familiar smugness as she heard the familiar sound of the lock snicking. A moment later, and Klaus dangled the keys in front of her, dimples creasing his cheeks. “Your keys, love.”

Juggling the bags, she took them with a grumble. “I don’t care what you say about a misspent youth at boarding schools, I spent twenty minutes doing the exact same thing you just did. Twenty. Minutes.”

“Hmm,” he said noncommittal, pushing the door open. “I’m sure you did.”

She shoved his bags at him with a scowl, which he took looking entirely unrepentant, and marched inside the apartment, flicking the lights on as she went. The apartment they shared wasn’t as wide as it was long, the kitchen a small gallery space that they used sparingly. Even in a neighborhood an hour subway ride from Manhattan, space was at a premium price. They were lucky enough that they were able to afford two bedrooms, allowing them to have a small common space instead of trying to convert the living room to squeeze a third roommate in.

Part of that was due to Caroline’s meager savings and some of that was because Klaus’ brother had fronted him some cash when he’d graduated. She didn’t have a lot of the details about his home life, Rebekah had only told her enough to assure that he wasn’t a serial killer, but it’d been made clear quickly that her half-brother hadn’t been afforded the same trust funds as the rest of them.

Privately, Caroline had always thought Klaus was better for it. He could be a complete asshole when he wanted to be, but at least he had common sense, something she hadn’t seen a sign of in his collection of half-siblings. Even Elijah, with his perfect manners and impeccable taste in clothes didn’t really seem to understand how people who weren’t born with a silver spoon in their mouths lived. Klaus clearly struggled with things she knew nothing about but she liked him for it.

To her surprise, it looked like Klaus had not only run an errand for her earlier but he'd made an effort to straighten up the common space before he had left, his dishes from that morning drying next to the sink, and the disaster the coffee table had become of menus and his sketch pads had been cleared away. Toeing off her shoes, she decided she could forgive the smug.

Glancing at him as he shut and locked the door, she pursed her lips. “What’s in the bag?”

Klaus walked by her and into the small living room, setting the bags on the coffee table. Lifting a hand grip the back of his neck he gave her another smug look. “Canapés.”

Caroline froze in the act of hanging her backpack. Klaus watched her with amusement clear on his face. “You brought home fancy food.”

He shrugged. “I’d like to take credit, but one of the caterers for the event tonight was your friend Bonnie. When she realized you’d been pulled into a double shift and you were not joining me, she ambushed me on my way out the door.”

Caroline had never met a canapé she hadn’t liked, and her stomach took that moment to rumble. Ignoring Klaus’ soft laugh, she pressed her palms together and stared at him. “Please, please tell me there were crab cakes tonight.”

His smile deepened. “There were crab cakes.”

Grinning, her exhaustion and annoyance falling away, she nearly bounced. Bonnie’s crab cakes were awesome. “And the bottle?”

“Ah,” his mouth slid into a slow smirk that had her stomach doing funny flips. “That I might have liberated.”

She spluttered. “Klaus Mikaelson, we have talked about this. My mother was a sheriff. You can’t just bring contraband in our home and think I am going to be okay with it!”

Klaus shrugged, his lack of shame brazen. “Would you like me to pour the wine down the sink? It's a _Cabernet Sauvignon_. A particularly good one, if you like that sort of thing. Seems to be a bit of a waste.”

Which _he_ did enjoy, though he preferred a good Burgundy because even though he didn’t have the same kind of cash as his siblings, he was horribly snobby about some things. Glaring at him, she internally debated before she sighed.

In the famous last words of Enzo, what was done was done. No point in _her_ suffering because Klaus occasionally had sticky fingers. “Fine. Fine. But since you're so good at opening things tonight, you get to deal with the cork while I shower. Do not eat a single crab cake while I am gone, Klaus. I _will_ text Bonnie and ask for specifics on what she sent and I will get even.”

“It could be worth it,” he murmured, eyes full of laughter. “They were very good.”

Catching that glint of teasing, she didn’t get too worked up, but she also couldn’t let him think he’d gotten in last world. “Uh huh. Ask Kol about how much he liked it the last time he ate something I had claimed as mine. He’s probably still up. He could give you details. I have pictures somewhere, if he has forgotten the pertinent ones.”

Picking up her ruined shoes, she headed toward her bedroom ignoring his laughter. It took only a moment to grab a set of comfy clothes and a zip up hoodie so she didn’t have to bother with a bra afterwards. Her skin was starting to itch now that she was so close to bring clean and she’d stopped stressing out about looking perfect in front of Klaus. Smelling like a keg and exhausted after two shifts was not the worse he had seen. Why suffer with a bra when she didn’t have to?

Caroline made herself shower quick. If she hadn’t been covered in beer she was hungry enough that she might not have bothered finding off before bed. Thankfully she didn’t have to wash her hair, the pitcher of beer had hit her mostly from the knees down. It’d left her with uncomfortably wet feet and smelling like a keg, but other than what might have been a spectacular blister from wearing wet socks for the night, she’d survived surprisingly well.

The guy who dumped the beer hadn’t survived Enzo’s temper nearly so well.

The air in the bathroom was full of steam when she finally stepped out, vigorously drying herself with her towel. The bathroom did not stay warm long and she wanted back in her clothes. She scrambled to slather on her preferred lotions and then pulled on her clean clothing with a sigh.

 _Finally_.

Wiling the mirror down to check if there was any remaining mascara and eyeliner that needed to be wiped away, and she was pleased to note that Klaus had cleaned up the sink after shaving his stubble before the gallery. There had been a time he wouldn’t have. Finishing her post-shower ritual, she released her hair from the tight bun it had been scrapped in for most of the day and considered that lingering thought.

Klaus had been making an effort.

When she made the decision to move back to New York after settling her mother’s estate, she hadn’t been entirely sure how she could manage it. She’d been forced to drop out of her internship and defer a year of school, and her remaining savings after she’d settled her mother’s estate wasn’t great. But staying hadn’t been an option.

She’d know if she stuck around in Mystic Falls for too long, she’d never escape again, the easiness of it too tempting. She’d already been offered a job as a receptionist at the local hospital until she could find her feet, and while the income was pitiful, it would be enough to survive in a house that was already paid off. All she had to do was scrap together enough money each month to pay for her groceries and utilities, and she could have made it work.

But Caroline didn’t want a small town life. It was why she had left in the first place. She had never wanted easy, and her mom had never wanted her to settle. Selling the house, the car she didn’t need, those were the things her mom would have wanted her to do. She just hadn’t known what she was going to do once she did them. She knew that finishing her degree immediately wasn’t going to be an option, she’d done the math, knew that she’d need at least a year, maybe two to get her finances back in order after paying for the funeral. It was easy to find a waitressing gig in New York, and she’d done it before. She’d manage. But where she was going to live was something she had no idea on where to start looking.

Then Rebekah had called.

Caroline had met Rebekah Mikaelson her first semester at NYU in a science lab when they’d been partnered up by their Professor.

They had _not_ gotten along.

They’d managed A’s in that class because neither of them would allow the other to do better, and when they’d finished Caroline had been relieved and hoped they’d never see each other again. It'd been almost six months later that they’d run into each other at a party, and this time, somehow, after an evening of dropping less than subtle insults, they’d ended up at a dinner eating pie and carefully easing into the start of what would be a rock solid friendship.

When Rebekah had called, she’d offered her a lifeline in the form of a brother looking for a roommate. She’d stressed that Klaus hadn’t expected her to stick around, he apparently had a constant stream of sub-letters due to his weird hours, but it would give her time to land on her feet. Caroline had taken the offer with both hands and accepted. It’d taken her about a week to formulate a two year plan to get back on her feet and to finish her last two semesters of College. So she’d sold her mom’s house, the car she wouldn’t use and headed back to the city she’d fallen in love with on her very first visit.

And Klaus had been nothing like she’d expected.

Pulling her hair into a messy ponytail, she bent to gather her clothes and dump them in the correct hampers. She’d have to do something about her shoes, but that would be a problem for tomorrow, she decided. Anything was manageable after eight hours of sleep.

The living room was empty when she walked back in.

Thankfully, Klaus had done as she asked and opened the wine before he’d disappeared into his room, hopefully to pack up the tux before he spilled food on it. She hadn’t seen the cost of his suit but her dress definitely had a cleaning fee she did not want to pay. Reaching for the bottle, she poured them both a healthy portion and then dug into the boxes.

Bonnie had packed everything carefully, one of them weighed heavily towards crab puffs which she rather thought it had been meant for her. Her friend had also packed all her favorite cheeses and crackers, and a few more of the canapés that had been served. Honestly, Bonnie was the absolute best and she was going to have to hide her bill next time she came to the bar.

Assuming Enzo didn’t get to it first.

Her best guy friend was such a flirt and it was a shame both he and Bonnie seemed content to keep their relationship in the flirt but don’t touch zone. Though it was starting to seem that Enzo had eyes for a different one of her friends and wasn’t that going to be super entertaining to watch?

Picking up her glass she took a slow sip, and sighed to herself. Klaus has been right. It was really good.

“Bonnie said that everything should be fine to eat at room temperature,” Klaus said from behind her. “Apparently she doesn’t trust either of us to microwave the food correctly.”

“Ha,” Caroline said as she swiped a crab cake and collapsed on their surprisingly comfy couch, folding her legs beneath her. Balancing the glass of wine, she popped the canapé into her mouth with a little noise of enjoyment. Chewing happily, she swallowed and shook her head. “The microwave is the only appliance I trust either of us to use in this apartment successfully.”

A soft laugh, and then Klaus sank onto the couch next to her, the heat of his thigh brushing briefly against hers. It wasn’t a large couch. “If you say so, love.”

She turned to glare at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. He’d changed out of his fancy formal wear into a pair of familiar sweatpants and t-shirt that only had a _few_ paint splotches on it. If it was a favorite, it had probably only survived because he tended to strip off his top when painting.

The first time she’d caught him bare chested and painting in the living room to catch the afternoon light she’d nearly swallowed her tongue. She knew that Klaus was a little bit of a health nut for all that his food choices were lame, but seeing the long line of his lean toso and the curve of his hip bones as his jeans clung to his hips had been _completely_ different than imaging what was beneath his ridiculously form fitting clothes.

It really hadn’t helped her little crush at all.

She’d learned that he would wear the jeans he painted in until they were falling apart, usually they were held together with more paint than fabric, and she’d banned him from from wearing them around the house lest they end up with paint flecking onto the carpet or furniture or she ended up ripping them off him. Those jeans left very little to the imagination and Klaus was apparently not a man to skip leg day.

Much to her appreciation.

Tonight, he’d gone for comfort and she didn’t know if she wanted to bless or curse him for it. Next to her, with his head tipped back, the slow rise and fall of his chest was distracting. She nudged him with her toes to distract herself from just how much she wanted to press against his side and see if his throat still smelled like her favorite cologne. “Hey, are you going to fall asleep sitting like that? You don’t like it when I wake you up and this couch is a _solid_ five inches too short for either of us to sleep comfortably on it.”

Klaus made a noise that might have been a huff and opened his eyes to glower at her for a moment before he leaned forward to grab one of the cartons that Bonnie had sent him home with. That one had fewer crab puffs, so she supposed she could be considerate and let him have the contents without complaint. “I suppose I should eat, if only to avoid listening to your lecture.”

Caroline rolled her eyes and reached for her own carton, scooping up another one of the delicious finger foods that had been packed. This one was some sort of dumpling, and she took a bite happily. “Oh please, if you minded as much as you say you do, you’d make a better point of eating like a normal person.”

He grunted, but didn’t comment, which she took as a _win_. Satisfied, she dug into her own food, wolfing down the tiny, fancy foods Bon’s catering company was known for. Licking one fingertip, she slid her gaze towards her roommate. “Do you think that last container is dessert? I got distracted by the wine and didn’t check.”

“There were a number of tiny desserts going around,” Klaus said. He tipped his head and his voice was bone dry. “Bonnie might also be aware of your sweet tooth.”

She glared halfheartedly. “After all the calories I burned today dealing with idiots, I deserve not only carbs but sugar,” Caroline muttered. “You would not believe the amount of nonsense today.”

Klaus nudged her with his thigh, expression bemused. “Having heard a number of your stories, Caroline, there isn’t much about your job I’m _not_ willing to believe.”

“That’s probably fair,” she agreed after a drink of her wine. “If Enzo hadn’t been on the second shift at the bar tonight, I might have lost my mind.”

Something flickered across Klaus’ face that she didn’t recognize, something that tightened the corners of his mouth, but he covered it by leaning forward to pick up his glass of wine. “How exactly _did_ you end up covered in beer?”

Caroline took a longer drink of her glass, pulse fluttering at the slight edge in his voice. That soft hint of concern she had seen before, but she didn’t know what the stiffening of his jaw _meant_.

“The beer thing was new for me. I don’t think my shoes are going to ever be the same. Can you believe Enzo suggested saddle soap? What on earth is saddle soap going to do? My shoes aren’t leather.” She picked up a grape with narrowed eyes. “ _Saddle soap_ , my ass. When exactly did Enzo St. John spend any time around horses? Did he have a horse girl phase I don’t know about?”

“ _Caroline_.”

His exasperation was mostly amused but underneath that… jealous. He sounded just a _little bit jealous_. Swallowing that thought down, shook herself and leaned back against the couch in an attempt to cover just how much the idea that he was jealous had stunned her. “Bar crawl. We had the dubious pleasure of being the last stop. One of them decided they needed more beer, which wasn’t great, but wasn’t really the problem. The problem was his balance.” She signed heavily, mentally replaying the ending to her exhausting day. She could see the way the pitcher had wobbled in his hands, the warning slosh over the top of the pitcher.

Her frantic lunge.

“I tried to save it, he shouldn’t have been carrying it in the first place and that’s a discussion I am going to be having with the new waitress for sure, but he was and then you know. He wasn’t.” Her face pulled into a frown. “I missed most of it, he just got me from the knees down but it ugh. _Beer_. I think I preferred it when the waitress dumped the tray of cosmos on me instead.”

“And what was Enzo doing while this was going on?” Klaus asked mildly, brows furrowing, seemingly unbothered by her ramblings. “He’s usually a lot more particular about who works from the bar.”

“Today was a disaster from start to finish,” Caroline muttered. “The line cook was late getting in this morning so food prep was behind for most of the morning, the dishwasher didn’t show up at all, we were swamped more than usual for absolutely no reason that I could see, and then Cami called in sick leaving me to close. Enzo got stuck training because I did not have the time for it. Thank god that’s all someone else’s problem for the weekend.”

Klaus closed his container and leaned forward to set it down on the coffee table. It gave Caroline an excellent view of his back and shoulders as the shirt stretched taut, and her fingers tightened on her glass. “I thought you closed tomorrow?”

“Nope,” she said in a blissful sigh, something warm in her chest at the confirmation he was paying attention to her schedule. “My deal was if I covered tonight someone covered for me tomorrow and I got the next two days off. Matt’s a dunce, but he’s back tonight from vacay and wanted the extra money so he agreed.”

“Good for you.”

“Yeah, but I am sorry I missed tonight. I really wanted to go.” She gave him a small grin. “My dress was kick ass.”

Klaus looked intrigued. “They’ll be more.”

“Yeah,” Caroline said. “But this was your _first_. If I hear even a hint that Cami was playing hookie because she’s still mad that you turned her down for a date, Enzo and I have agreed to make her life miserable for the foreseeable future.”

Another narrow look before his gaze moved away from her face. “Enzo.”

“Yup,” she popped the sound just because she knew it annoyed him and it helped cover the curve of her smile. It _was_ jealousy and wasn’t that just fascinating? She very deliberately used her last cracker to coral her last bite of soft cheese. “He asked for Bekah’s number the other night and I agreed to give it to him only if he helped me plot.”

Something warm spiked in her chest at the way his head suddenly swiveled in her direction. She could just make out the widening of his eyes before he cleared his throat and the intriguing annoyance disappeared under brotherly concern. “ _My_ Rebekah?”

“We only know one Rebekah between us, Klaus, which honestly, is a little weird if you think of many people who have that name statistically.” She popped a slice of cheese into her mouth and chewed slowly. “Though that’s honestly probably more of a _you_ thing than a _me_ thing. I like people.”

A snort. “You like bossing people around, Caroline.”

“Organizing.” She corrected promptly, gaze narrowing at the familiar argument, waiting until he took a drink of his wine before finishing her rebuttal. “I like _organzing_ people, and don’t get grumpy with me because your sister has a sex life.”

A sharp inhale followed by a cough and Caroline put out a hand to save the glass of wine he still held. There had been enough alcohol related disasters today, no need to ruin the couch too. Though he totally deserved the inconvenience of inhaling his wine after his comment.

Glaring at her now in earnest, Klaus cleared his lungs. “ _Caroline_.”

She handed him a napkin and shrugged, unrepentant. “Yeah, yeah, no discussing your sisters sex life. I remember.”

“And _yet…_ ”

Closing the lid on her now empty box, Caroline leaned back into the cushions and shifted to face him. He didn’t seem to mind that her knee was now pressed firmly against his, and she tried not to let that bit of contact distract her. “Brothers. Super glad I don’t have one.”

“I’m sure you’d have terrorized your hypothetical sibling into following whatever list of rules you’d made for them before they turned three.”

She sat up with a frown. “You mock, but we both know my chore schedule has kept us from murdering each other. There is only one bathroom, Klaus. You want to be a slob? Strike it rich and live alone.”

“And miss your wildly ridiculous commentary on your terrible TV choices?” Klaus drawled. “I would never.”

“You’re just mad I’m right,” she said cheerfully. Leaning back, she pressed a hand to her stomach and frowned. “Dessert for breakfast is totally reasonable, right?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “Uh huh. I’m now fed, boozed up and done complaining for now. Your turn. Tell me everything.”

Klaus shrugged. “It went well.”

“You cannot possibly think that is enough information after having lived with me for almost a year. Details, Klaus. I want _details_. You’re an artist for god's sake. You cannot expect me to believe you noticed nothing.”

Amusement tugged the corners of his mouth. “Honestly, it was just a bunch of people milling about wanting to feel important by buying art in fancy clothes. What is there to say?”

Caroline closed her eyes. “Oh my god, please tell me you didn’t _say_ that.”

“And risk another lecture on socializing?” He laughed. “I wouldn’t dare. I mostly just nodded and wished for decent bourbon.”

That sounded completely on brand and she covered her face with one hand. “Did you at least sell things? Money is important to live here you know.”

Klaus looked unconcerned. “I’ll find out in the morning.”

“Useless. This conversation is useless. Please tell me Marcel dragged you out to loosen up afterwards like he promised. Though you are far less boozed up than I would have expected if he had. Either he is failing at his best friend duties or your being particularly stubborn today.”

His face went still. “I didn’t go out with Marcel.”

She blinked. “But the gallery ended at eleven and you didn’t beat me home.”

He was silent for a long moment, shoulders tense before he spoke carefully. “My father came tonight.”

Caroline moved the dregs of her wine and her empty container to the coffee table, giving herself a moment to figure out how to respond. Fathers were a complicated subject with Klaus, one he did not usually willingly bring up. She only knew what she did because of her friendship with Rebekah and the occasional offhand comment from Kol. It was a complicated mess of affairs and trust funds, and not something she wanted to wade into. But Klaus had brought it up and that meant something, she just didn’t know what.

“Ansel?”

A short nod.

Caroline chewed on her lip for a moment. “Did it go well?”

Klaus stared at the ceiling for a long moment before he nodded again. “Well enough.”

She wanted to reach for him, to tangle her fingers with his so he knew she was there, but wasn’t sure how well that would be taken. She forced herself to settle for a smile. “I’m glad.”

He finally glanced back at her and they stared at each other. His gaze softened, something warm behind his eyes, and his lips parted just as her phone buzzed on the coffee table shattering the moment. Klaus stood in a flex of muscle that was unfair, and looked away. “I’ll clean up.”

Blowing out a breath as Klaus carried the trash into the kitchen, she ran a hand through her bangs before leaning over to grab her phone. Glancing at her screen, her brows arched in surprise. It was nearly four am and Rebekah was not an early riser. Which meant she hadn’t actually gone to sleep yet. Swiping open her screen, she frowned at the message.

_Rebekah [3:45AM]: I double dog dare you to ask him about this one._

Caroline stared at the text message, her brows furrowed together as Klaus moved around in the kitchen. A few moments later, a picture came through and her breath caught in her throat.

Teeth sinking into her lip, she glanced towards her kitchen. “Did Rebekah make it to the show?”

There was a pause, and the only sound was the kitchen sink running. “Yes.”

Swallowing, she tapped on the picture to enlarge it on her phone and swallowed. Hard.

When she had originally come to New York City all those years ago, she hadn’t brought her guitar with her. Her dreams of becoming a country singer had faded before she hit her senior year of high school, the child of two divorced parents needed a bit more practicality than chasing stardom would allow her. But she’d never really given up on playing the guitar, and she’d sang in choir as often as her cheer leading schedule would allow. She’d told her mother it was for her college applications, but it’s been for her.

Singing made her happy.

She’d left the guitar behind when she’d moved, unwilling to damage it in the dorms. It’d been one of the last things her dad had bought her. When she’d come back to New York, it had been one of the few things she’d brought with her.

She couldn’t have explained why it was important to her to have with her as she stepped back into the unknown instead of leaving it in storage. It’d taken her a few weeks to drag it out of the back of her closet, but one night when she’d been alone she’d sat on the couch and slowly picked her way along the familiar strings, re-familiarizing herself with the cords.

After that, she’d pulled it out a couple nights a month when she’d thought Klaus was at his studio. Clearly at some point he’d seen her.

And he’d painted her.

It wasn’t their couch where she sat, and the background was dreamy and indecisive instead of their boring beige walls. The only thing she could really see of herself was the fall of her hair and the delicate profile of her jawline, but the brightly colored nails and the guitar were hers. The angle of her shoulders. It was terribly familiar in ways she couldn’t explain.

“That one wasn’t for sale.”

Caroline’s head jerked up in surprise as his voice rasped above her ear, palm slamming into her chest as her pulse kicked. Spinning, she exhaled a shaky breath. “Don’t _do_ that, Klaus. Your sneaky feet are going to give me a heart attack one day and then who will put up with you and pay rent?”

His mouth curved but his eyes were strangely serious as he watched her. “Rebekah sent you that one?”

She nodded carefully. “I didn’t know she planned to come.”

“She isn’t really known for announcing herself.”

Caroline laughed. “Only where you're concerned. I assure you, she enjoys planning our time together down to the minute and if I didn’t like itineraries so much, I’d be offended.”

He hummed a little and Caroline realized he looked nervous. Glancing back down at the picture, she watched him from beneath her lashes. “This is me.”

“Yes.”

She shook her head, letting her confusion show. “I didn’t think you were ever home when I played.”

“Only once,” he admitted. “I was tired, frustrated after a long day of failing and you didn’t notice when I came in. You were just sitting there, lost in the music and I just.” His fingers opened and closed, as if looking for a pencil and he sighed, raking his hand through his hair. “It was the first painting I finished.”

Her lips parted a little at that, and she set her phone down, standing. Tipping her head, she watched him carefully. Klaus’ poker face was legendary when he wanted it to be but nothing about him read as uncomfortable, just a little unsettled. Teeth sinking briefly into her lip, she blew out a breath. “Why?”

Klaus stepped closer. “Why what?”

“Why paint me at all?”

He shook his head, and he reached up and pushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Because I’m thinking about you all the time anyway. You try to sneak into most things I do these days, Caroline. Not painting you would have been far more difficult than painting you. Seeing you with your guitar, relaxed and happy? It just gave me an excuse.”

For the first time that night, it occurred to her that a picnic on the couch drinking wine and eating tiny food could have been considered _romantic_. His soft words about her sneaking into his work. All that had been missing was the candlelight and cuddling.

Swallowing, she licked her lips. “Was this a date?”

“It was certainly date-like,” Klaus murmured. “But I think for it to be a date, I’d have to ask you first.”

“And do you want to?” She asked just as softly. “Ask me, that is.”

Her toes curled into the wood floor as she waited for a response. Her poker face wasn’t nearly as good as his and she really, really hoped he’d say yes because she didn’t know what she’d do if he said no. She’d never made her move because _awkward_ if he didn’t feel the same, but it was becoming very clear that she’d completely misread that bit.

Mouth curling into something small and private, he moved close enough that his legs brushed hers. “Yes.”

Caroline found herself smiling in return. “We can never tell Rebekah about this. She’ll be smug, and I can only deal with so much Mikaelson smugness. You’re going to fill the quota pretty quick.”

His brows arched. “About what?”

Rising up in her toes, she slid her fingers into his hair and pressed her mouth to his. For a moment it was simple, the press of her lips to his, and then Klaus made a deep noise low in his throat and his mouth opened against hers. The swipe of his tongue met her own, and she didn’t mind at all when he nudged her closer to the wall, his hands skimming along her sides to grip the curve of her ass. When she pulled away for much needed air, lips wet and burning, his mouth dragged along the curve of her jaw.

“Caroline.”

She tugged him closer, fingers greedy for the feel of him, the heat of him perfect. “Uh huh.”

“Was that a yes?” His words held the rough edge of arousal and she liked it. She liked it a lot, this signal that he wanted her too.

Caroline licked her lips, shivering at the way his eyes tracked the move. “That was a yes for dates, and a ‘my bed or yours?’”

Klaus lashes fluttered at her words, and his fingers reached between them to slide the zipper of her hoodie slowly down, baring the colorful fabric of her t-shirt. She glanced down to watch as his palm slid back up so his thumb could tease the hard point of her nipple. “Mine.”

Her hips rocked against his, and she moaned. “You _do_ have the better headboard, but have you cleaned your sheets recently?”

He lightly pinched her nipple. “This morning.”

Caroline tried to think past the very urgent demands her body was making of her, and she curled her fingers into the collar of his shirt. “This… morning?”

Klaus wasn’t as rigid about his laundry schedule as she was, but he usually did laundry somewhere between Monday and Wednesday. It was a Friday night, on a day that he had a huge event. Laundry seemed to be the least of his concerns. And yet...

His tongue snaked across his lips and he watched her from beneath his lashes. “Hmm.”

Brows furrowing, she studied his face. “You washed your sheets, did the dishes and wore the cologne I _really_ like.” Her lips slowly curved. Watching him carefully, she dragged a fingertip down the column of his throat, tracing the curve of his collarbone. “Were you planning on making a move?”

The idea delighted her. Told her that she wasn’t the only one invested in making this more than just sex. She couldn’t have hid her happiness if she tried and his mouth tilted, dimple creasing in one cheek. “This isn’t making a move?”

She laughed breathlessly. “This is _my_ move, mister. You want credit, you’re going to have to make one.”

He bent his head and nuzzled into her throat, teeth scraping lightly behind her ear. Her body shuddered in sensation, and when he spoke, his voice was gravel rough. “I have several moves I think you’re going to enjoy, love, but they are best experienced from my bed.”

Caroline kissed him, hard and fast. She wasn’t going to make it past the first round, not after the day she’d had, but that was okay. She had forty-eight hours before she had to leave his bed for more than basic needs, and she was already formulating ideas. “Some of those moves had better include pancakes in the morning, and then I’ve got a move or two of my own I think you’d be really interested in.”

He kissed her throat, lingering until her nails dug into his skin and she was moaning. “I thought you were having dessert for breakfast.”

She hummed. “If your moves are as good as you think, tomorrow might not be the only morning I wake up in your bed.”

His breath was hot and damp against her skin. “A good thing then, that I picked up a new bottle of maple syrup when I grabbed the graphite.”

Klaus was going to make it really hard not to fall head over heels. He’d made _plans_. Multiple, if breakfast had been his radar and that was hot. Pushing him away, she gripped his hand and pulled him with her, towards his room. “Take me to bed. Right _now_.”

His laugh was full of all the best things, and when they tumbled into his sheets they were both he definitely made _moves_. And later, naked and drowsy, his skin warm against hers, she fell asleep with fingers tangled with hers, happiness a ball of warmth in her chest.


End file.
